Crumbling
by Eleene
Summary: Arthur returns to the House five years after the fall of Lord Sunday to claim his Mastery. NoonArthur fluff. Revamped slightly to reflect canon.
1. Crumble

Someone was watching him; Arthur could feel it. The temperature of the Dayroom was shifting and the small hairs at the nape of his neck were standing on end. A small shiver ran down his spine. Sneaking a glance over his shoulder, Arthur saw who it was.

There, standing in the entranceway of the Dayroom, was Monday's Noon. The way he had his gaze settled on him, eyes seeming to drink in his body from afar, was enough to make Arthur blush and quickly look at the floor. The tile was of sudden interest to him.

"I have the rehabilitation progress of the Far Reaches, milord," Noon said. "I'll leave them with you. Please, when you get a chance, take a look at them."

Arthur watched Noon as he approached. His eyes shifted from the documents in Noon's hands, up to the broad line of his shoulders, down to the rhythmic sway of his hips. He had been nursing a crush on the Denizen for years, which, upon reflection, was kind of disturbing. Before her could draw in a solid, stabilizing breath, Noon was standing before him, curiously watching the way Arthur's breath hitched in his throat.

"Are you all right?" Noon asked. "I thought your sickness had dissipated."

"I- I'm fine," Arthur croaked. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed by all that needs to be done in the House, that's all. I think I can handle it."

It was hard to explain the feeling Arthur got whenever Noon was around. As a young boy roped into the task of overthrowing the Morrow Days, Noon was always there as a pillar of strength for Arthur to lean on when he was weary. He was a wellspring of insight when Arthur needed advice, an advisor he could trust fully. But now, upon his return to the House and the duties he had put on hold five years ago, Noon was something else in addition to all the things he once was.

"Let me know if there's anything that I can do for you," Noon said as he gently placed the slim stack of papers in Arthur's waiting palms. The light brush of Noon's gloved fingers over Arthur's hands sent a small tremor through Arthur's body. He recoiled against the sensation, and the papers fluttered to the floor of the Dayroom.

"I'm so sorry!" Arthur cried, embarrassed that he couldn't even hang on to a small stack of documents.

_"It's a miracle I can hold on to my sanity,"_ Arthur thought bitterly to himself as he dropped to his knees to scoop up the mess at his feet.

Noon kneeled as well. "It's quite all right. Maybe these matters should wait," he said as he helped Arthur organize the paper back into an orderly pile.

"No, I'll be fine. Please," Arthur said, reassuring him. He couldn't tell if Noon believed him or not; he, like most other Denizens, were hard to read.

"Lord Arthur."

It was strange. Arthur marveled at the way Noon's mouth curled over his title: his tongue lightly touching his teeth, his lips conforming to the shape of the vowels that blended into consonants, another touch to the teeth, finished off with a ghost of a smile. It was interesting to watch, something he never really noticed before. Arthur smiled.

"Lord Arthur," Noon repeated, this time gesturing down the length of his arm with his eyes.

Arthur followed his gaze. They were both after the same document on the floor: a thick piece of parchment of a dull yellow color. Noon obviously reached it first; his hand was under Arthur's.

Realizing his position, Arthur retracted his hand. He could feel heat rising to his neck and face and quickly stood, his eyes turned from Noon.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"

"Milord."

Slowly, Arthur turned to face him. Dropping the papers, that was no longer an embarrassment. This was.

"You don't have to be sorry. It's all right," Noon whispered as he reached for his lord's hand, taking it gently in his. The feel of Noon's fingers running over him somehow added to the reassurance. It was a soothing gesture, one of healing.

"I just, you know, feel all awkward and silly," Arthur said as he shuffled one foot around in a square-like pattern.

Noon circled his thumb over the back of Arthur's hand. "You don't ever have to feel that way around me. There is no need."

"But I do!" Arthur said. It was frustrating. He was still the same old Noon, and while he had aged five years, he was still the same old Arthur. Nothing had changed. Had it?

"Don't."

He felt his hand being lifted and the light brush of Noon's lips over his knuckles. The gesture surprised Arthur and he snapped his attention fully back to Noon.

Every touch of Noon's lips to his hand sent a rippling wave of pleasure down Arthur's arm, deep into his chest. Into his stomach, twisting into a knot of delight. The feeling was similar to the times Arthur had spent with Leaf when they were older and the whole mess with the House was through, for the time being. The way she would make his body tingle with her kisses, it was akin to this.

But this was Noon. This was different. Their whole relationship differed from his and Leaf's. In the House, Arthur was the Master. Noon was the servant. Oh god. Noon wasn't doing this because he thought he _had_ to, was he?

"Noon," Arthur croaked. "You don't have to..."

He pulled Arthur closer, closing the distance between them.

"You don't know how long I've waited for your return," Noon whispered into Arthur's ear. "When I saw you at the Front Door that day– and upon seeing how much you had grown– I knew right then the House would be in good hands. The Denizens of the House were loathe to watch you go when you did, after the fall of Lord Sunday. And I know I missed you terribly. But you've returned, and I am _so_ very grateful."

Arthur inhaled sharply, feeling Noon's mouth trailing the line of his jaw with small kisses. In response, Arthur tilted his head and lifted his chin; Noon easily forged his way down the curve of Arthur's neck.

Threading his fingers through Noon's hair, Arthur panted, "Noon, wait."

Noon pulled back, regarding Arthur with his darkened eyes. "Forgive me. I've overstepped my bounds."

Arthur shook his head, watching the way Noon occupied himself with the task of gathering the fallen documents to him. "No, that's not it. It's just– this is all quite sudden. I don't know what to make of all it." Arthur slumped his shoulders and sighed.

Straightening, Noon bowed his head. "I understand."

"Noon." After effectively locking Noon's gaze with his own, Arthur placed his hands on Noon's shoulders and craned his neck. Their lips touched in an innocent kiss. It lasted but an instant, but it was enough for Arthur.

"Miord?" Noon said with a smile.

"One day," Arthur said, "But not yet."


	2. Shattering Notions

He couldn't think of anything else and it was driving Arthur to distraction. He was supposed to be giving the audiences that sought his valuable time his full attention as they spilled their woes and concerns with great fervor, but his mind kept floating back to other things. The recollection of that day not long ago kept creeping to the front of his mind.

The memory of the kiss he had shared with Monday's Noon would not leave him alone.

As an Inkfiller let surface his worries concerning the future of the work environs in the Lower House, Arthur felt his cheeks suddenly begin to warm. The feeling of Noon's lips pressed softly against his, in that chaste kiss Arthur himself had ignited, returned and Arthur had to break eye contact with the Inkfiller more than once. He knew it wasn't proper, nowhere near professional, but he couldn't help it. Setting a sterling example while your mind was wandering elsewhere was hard; it was even harder when the thought that had you so preoccupied made you blush.

But he was allowed off-days, being Master of the House and all. Right? So what if one Denizen out of thousands, maybe even millions, saw him carry himself in a less than regal manner? So what if _one Denizen_ saw him blush.

However, as the hours slipped by, the number of Denizens that bore witness to Arthur's ineptitude as Master of the House rose exponentially. After one final incident, in which a newly assigned Thesaurus failed to control her giggling (she noticed the Heir blushing as he fumbled with his paperwork), Arthur decided to call it a day and returned to the Dayroom exhausted.

"This is horrible," Arthur said to himself, pacing the length of the Dayroom and back. The memory wouldn't leave, and what was worse was that it was beginning to make him feel ill. The spinning sensation of the memory was traveling, ghosting from his lips, down his chest, until finally settling in the form of a twisted knot in the pit of his stomach.

It hurt like nothing else. He'd never had a _memory_ drive him to such distraction, let alone nausea.

Thinking harder about the prospect of being violently ill, Arthur figured it was probably next to impossible to get sick in the House, though the sensation was still very real and very much _there_. Back on Earth, his mother would have given him something to calm his nerves and settle his stomach. Ginger ale or something. Maybe he could get something like that here, or at least something close.

Arthur left the Dayroom to find Sneezer, the most likely candidate able to procure a glass of ginger ale. The Denizen brought him everything else he needed, so why not this? And if for some reason it wasn't available to him, Arthur had a feeling that the butler could whip up another sort of panacea for Arthur to drink.

Vigorously searching the winding corridors of the Lower House, Arthur somehow managed _not_ to stumble across the butler, which was quite miraculous given that Sneezer always had a way of showing up whenever he was needed. Maybe he had left for the day... or was on vacation. Arthur's train of thought ran wild. Did Denizens even take vacations? Were there such things as holidays in the House? And if there weren't, did that mean Arthur would have to work until the end of infinity came? Infinity was a very long time indeed.

The barrage of questions and nausea had Arthur blind to everything that was around him, so the Heir didn't notice the Denizen walking toward him until it was too late. The two collided, Arthur having knocked the other to the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" Arthur cried, thrusting out a hand to help the toppled Denizen to his feet. It was Doctor Scamandros.

"Quite all right milord," the doctor said as he dusted himself off. He, too, looked preoccupied, but was too polite to brush off the Master of the House, and took a moment to chat with Arthur. "Why in such a rush?"

"It's nothing important," Arthur said, helping the doctor set himself back to rights. "I'm looking for Sneezer. I wanted to see if he could find some ginger ale or something--" The way Doctor Scamandros looked at him, as though he were missing a few screws, stopped him short. Like a Denizen would really understand the pseudo-medicinal qualities of soda. "Nevermind. I'm just not feeling well. That's all."

The doctor pulled from one of the voluminous pockets of his topcoat the collapsible telescope he always seemed to carry with him, much like the way doctors of Earth were never without their stethoscopes. He pulled it open and peered through it at Arthur.

After mumbling a few "hmmm's" and "ah ha's," Doctor Scamandros smashed the telescope flat and placed the disc back into his topcoat. "You're as healthy as any Denizen can be, milord."

Arthur sighed. "Somehow, I think I already knew that."

"I beg your pardon."

Reassembling his thoughts, Arthur said, "I just have a lot on my mind. So much that I'm making myself feel sick, that's all."

Doctor Scamandros nodded. "Yes, yes, the mind is a very powerful thing. It can make the ill feel strong and the healthy quite weak. I find the only way to outsmart your own mind is to confront what it is that's driving you to sickness."

"Confront the source," Arthur said and slumped his shoulders. Confronting Monday's Noon would not be an easy task.

"Quite right, milord. If you are no longer troubled by the source of your thoughts, then you can move on. That's what I believe," the doctor said. "Now, if you'll be so kind as to pardon me, milord..."

"Oh right!" Arthur quickly jumped out of the doctor's way. "I'm sorry to have stopped you... er, run you over. I'm sure you were on your way somewhere."

Laughing, Doctor Scamandros shook his head. "It's all right, milord. I'm always happy to be of service. I was in no hurry actually. Just returning to the Border Sea; many things to tend to there."

"If I may ask, what _were_ you doing down here in the Lower House?"

"Getting a refill," he said, producing a bottle labeled _Activated Ink_ from another one of his pockets. "Cheaper to go directly to the source than to go through other Denizens, especially when the 'other Denizens' happen to be the sorcerers of the Upper House. Now, by your leave."

Bowing, Doctor Scamandros started his way down the corridor once again. When he was out of sight, Arthur continued his own journey down the hall.

He wasn't far from the study of Monday's Noon. Actually, if he continued straight, then turned once left and twice right he would be there. The longer he walked, however, the more Arthur could feel his feet beginning to drag. Why was this turning out to be something so dreadful? Did it really have to be? If he could just sort out his feelings, he wouldn't be so easily haunted by memories of one little kiss. He could go on with his life and the duties of the House.

What exactly his feelings were, Arthur didn't truly know. He had liked the kiss, but he wasn't sure if he liked all the meaning attached to it. That was maybe the last shred of his humanity talking. Would that make him gay? Would the House look down on him because of that? Would all his sterling examples suddenly be tarnished?

Then again, Denizens weren't supposed to carry on generations of legacy. Denizens were Made to observe, but they had feelings too just like humans, Arthur thought, despite what had Dame Primus said. So what was the big deal then if two Denizens wanted to be with each other? Right? Or maybe the stuff that ostracized you on Earth didn't matter in the House at all, and he had no reason to worry.

It was all so confusing.

And Arthur had run out of time; he was now standing in front of the door that led to Monday's Noon's study. Feeling his knees begin to buckle, Arthur grabbed the wall for purchase and considered turning back the way he had come, opting to forget the whole thing.

_"No,"_ Arthur thought. _"I need to straighten this out. I can't be this way forever, fumbling as Master of the House and feeling sick to my stomach all the time."_ He somehow succeeded in talking courage into himself; his legs no longer felt like jelly. _"Just go in there and sort this mess out the way you sort the papers everyone gives you. Tackle the hardest one first and the rest is cake."_

"Cake, huh?" Arthur wasn't so sure. He lifted his hand to the door and knocked.

"Come in."

Silently counting to three, Arthur took the knob of the door into a suddenly sweaty palm and gave it a turn. The door opened inward and he stepped inside. Monday's Noon was on the other side of the room at his desk putting away quills and capping bottles of ink. He glanced up at the Heir in surprise.

"Milord," Noon said. He pushed himself out of his chair and bowed, his right arm crossed over his chest.

"I... uh..." He wasn't like this before that infernal kiss! He could always talk to Noon whether it be when he was in need of advice or if he just needed someone to spill his woes to (when Suzy wasn't available). Boy did he need Suzy now. She definitely would have found a way to make light of the situation, and laughter was something that always had power over Arthur's fears. Laugh in the face of danger, she always told him. Even when all looked bleak.

Though Arthur had a feeling that he was skewing the meaning of the cliché, he laughed anyhow.

Noon frowned, looking a bit self-conscious. "Lord Arthur, what is it?"

He couldn't stop laughing. He raised a hand and took a couple breaths to calm himself. The effort was halfhearted and failed. "A kiss, Noon. Our kiss."

Noon shook his head. "Our kiss?"

"The one we shared in the Dayroom!" The laughter was finally fading and in its place fear was creeping. "I can't, I mean, I need to know..." Arthur laughed again, wielding it like a weapon against the fear growing in his chest.

"You need to know..." Noon prompted him with a wave of his hand.

"I need to know if it's right. If it's okay." Arthur approached the desk, bracing his hands against the edge and leaned forward. "I need to fix everything."

_"But is this how I fix it?"_

Noon stared at him, his hands fidgeting with the bundle of quills on his desk. He looked nervous, but Arthur noticed that he was leaning forward as well. The distance between them was closing and fast, and Arthur could feel his eyelids getting heavy. He tilted his head and parted his lips.

And knocked foreheads with Monday's Noon.

Embarrassed, Arthur cursed and pulled back quickly, rubbing the point of impact with his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Noon chuckling to himself. The Heir felt even stupider than he already did and could feel that his emotions were vividly displayed.

"Igottago," Arthur said, his words running together as he hastily made his way to the door. He decided escaping now was better than embarrassing himself further. As he reached for the doorknob however, Noon grabbed his wrist.

"Milord, wait," Noon said, spinning the Heir around, settling his hands on Arthur's shoulders. "I didn't mean to laugh. Don't go."

With Noon's hands on him, Arthur wasn't sure he _could_ go anywhere. Noon was quicker and easily twice as strong. He could force him to stay forever, if he really wanted to. But, as was characteristic to the Noon that Arthur knew, his touch was gentle and calming, and Arthur knew that if he really wanted to go, Noon would let him.

"Please don't go," Noon said again, bowing his head. This time Arthur didn't dare move. Their lips touched, but Arthur pulled back.

"I'm sorry, I just--"

"It's all right, milord. No need to explain," Noon said with a sigh, drawing Arthur close.

Arthur felt warm and safe within the circle of Noon's arms, and he questioned why it was so difficult for him to kiss someone whom he felt safe with. It should be easy. It should be _more_ than easy! Why the hell wasn't it? Why did he always have to dwell upon what others thought? Why did he always have to think so much?

Arthur hugged Noon tighter and mumbled half-audible apologies. "I'm trying. I really am."

"Don't do this for me," Noon said as he slid his fingers through Arthur's hair in an effort to soothe him. "Do this for yourself, if and only if you truly want to. Please don't force yourself."

"But I want... I want to." Praying he wouldn't make a fool of himself again, Arthur craned his neck and found Noon's lips. He then pushed every thought, every preconceived notion he or anyone else ever had about right and wrong, to the back of his mind and focused only on what he could feel.

The warm, soft brush of Noon's lips over his, moving in a slow, gentle rhythm. His mouth opening, coaxing Arthur to follow suit. Arthur responding with a small whimper, kissing Noon back.

_"This isn't bad at all,"_ Arthur thought as he opened his mouth wider. The kiss escalated, and Arthur dug his fingers into Noon's back.

Noon moaned softly and walked Arthur backward, pinning him against the wall. He broke their kiss with a smile and pulled away.

"Thank you, Noon."

"Anything for you, milord," Noon whispered against Arthur's lips as he began to rekindle the kiss. "Anything for you."


End file.
